Waiting
by rosesinjanuary
Summary: Sometimes the people who are left behind have the hardest job. Because they're the ones who have nothing to do but wait. Abby-centric, spoilers for 7x01.


So, this is really an Abby-centric fic, but McGee shows up more than anyone else, so he gets a tag too. Not _really_ McGee/Abby, but there are some hints of it. I just felt so sorry for Abby, waiting back in D.C. and not knowing if they were alive or dead...

Also, I have no clue how long a flight from North Africa to DC is. Sorry if I inadvertantly said something totally unrealistic.

Spoilers for 7x01.

They were in her lab when Tony and Gibbs came looking for McGee.

"Guess what, McGee," Tony said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "You just volunteered to go to North Africa with me."

McGee blinked. "Funny, Tony, I don't remember doing that."

"You don't? Huh." Tony leaned back against the computer table, crossing his arms and grinning. "Too bad. Pack your sunglasses, we leave tonight."

Bewildered, McGee turned to Gibbs. "Boss?" he asked, only now there was a tinge of excitement to his voice.

"Information gathering," Gibbs said shortly. "Can't move on Saleem without confirmation he's there."

There was something in the way Gibbs said _information gathering_ that sent a chill through Abby. "What do you mean, you're going to North Africa?" she asked, and her voice went a tiny bit higher than usual.

Gibbs jerked his head towards the door. "Time you all went home for the day," he told them. "I think I'll head out myself."

#

"No." Abby's voice shook. "No, no, _no_! He's already responsible for Ziva's death, I'm not going to let the rest of you run off and get killed!"

They'd gathered in Gibbs' basement – Tony, McGee, Ducky, Gibbs, and her – and Gibbs and Tony had explained the plan.

And she'd felt ice in her veins.

"No!" she repeated firmly. But Tony's eyes had a fervent, almost maniacal gleam, and Gibbs' gaze never faltered. Even McGee looked so determined and serious that it scared her. "No," she said, her voice weaker. "You can't."

"It's a good plan, Abigail," Ducky said gently.

She shot a glare at him. "_Don't_ call me Abigail. Gibbs," she pleaded, turning to the person she trusted more than almost anyone else in the world. "Don't do this."

He smoothed a hand along the side of her face. "It's the only way, Abby," he told her softly.

"We have to get him," came Tony's voice from behind her.

"And you heard the plan, Abs," McGee said in what he clearly meant to be a soothing tone. "It's a good plan. We'll be home before you know it."

Abby whirled and jammed a finger into his chest. "Easy for you to say, McGee," she hissed. "You won't be the one waiting here." He opened his mouth to speak, stalled out, and closed it again, looking helpless.

She looked to Ducky for backup, and he just shook his head. She tried Tony, but he was beyond listening to anyone. At last, she turned back to Gibbs. "Fine," she said. "But you can't take McGee."

"Abby!" McGee spluttered from behind her.

Gibbs gave her a look. "He's going, Abs."

She crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head vehemently. "No. I need him here. To keep tracking information, to get more on Saleem's movements… Sending you and Tony over there is bad enough, but you need both of us here to get you as much info as possible."

"He's a trained field agent, Abby, not your lab assistant," Gibbs said with a slight edge to his voice.

"I need him here. I don't care what you say, he's _not going._" She set her chin and prepared to stare Gibbs down.

She wondered if anyone, anywhere, _ever,_had managed to stare Gibbs down.

#

"Remember, you _have_ to give him those new pills. The vet thinks he's got some type of infection, and the antibiotics will help clear it up."

Abby sat cross-legged in the middle of McGee's bed, watching him pack, while he gave her instructions on caring for Jethro for the fifth time. "I _know_ McGee. He'll be fine. You've got gear for the desert, right? Goggles and everything?"

He sighed and reached deep into his pack, dug out a pair of goggles, and waved them at her.

"And you have your sun –" He held up a bottle of sunscreen in the middle of her sentence. "Because you have to wear sunscreen, Timmy. You're going to be driving around all day and you'll get burnt. Promise?"

He sighed again. "Promise."

She was quiet for a while, watching him methodically pack a few remaining essentials. "Are you going to stay here, or just come over to let him out?" he asked as he zipped up his bag.

Abby shrugged. "It's easier just to stay here. Plus, I don't want him to be alone at night." _And I don't want to be alone at night._

McGee tugged at the bedspread underneath her. "Then get up so I can put clean sheets on the bed."

"Don't worry about it. I'll do it later."

"And you remember where the –"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, I remember where the towels are." She remembered where _everything_ was. She'd helped him move in, and McGee was a creature of habit. Barely anything had changed in five years. She could never decide if it was boring or comforting, though at the moment she was leaning towards comforting.

He nodded, and headed out to the kitchen to clean out the fridge. She flopped back onto the bed and listened to him moving around, stacking dishes, doing…well, whatever the hell was on Timothy McGee's Going Out of Town Checklist. Jethro's toenails clicked across the floor as he followed his master around the apartment. Then, for a few minutes, everything was quiet.

"I'm sorry." His voice came from the doorway, startling her. "I know you don't want us to go."

She stared at the ceiling. "Your entire plan is based on being captured by people who want to torture and kill you, and the part where you stay alive is based on them _torturing_ you _longer._"

The bed shifted as he sat down on the edge. "Well, if all goes according to plan, Tony's the one who's going to get most of the torture," he offered.

Abby sat up and punched him in the shoulder. Hard. "I don't want _any_ of you getting tortured, you idiot!" she yelled. "I don't want you tortured almost as much as I don't want you _dead!_"

Tim caught her wrists and held her still. "Abby, Tony's not going to stop until we get this guy. And I'm not going to let my partner go off and do this alone. This is our only shot." He ran his hands up her arms and squeezed her shoulders. "It's for Ziva, Abs. It's the last thing we can do for her."

There was a tightness in her chest that wouldn't go away. She stared at him for a moment, and finally scooted closer, wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. He hugged her back. "Hey," he murmured. "Don't worry. It's going to be okay."

"Are you scared?" she asked, trying to memorize the feeling of his arms around her, of hers around him, the way he smelled, the sound of his voice…everything.

"Yeah," he admitted after a minute. "But I want to do this. For Ziva. And because…"

"Because you want to be more than just a walking search engine," she finished for him. "I know." She squeezed him tighter, and then pulled back, looking straight into his eyes. "Don't go doing anything all stupid and heroic. I don't want you to be a hero, I want you to be _alive._" He opened his mouth to say something, but she continued before he could argue. "And you're going to call me the _second_ you're all on the way home. That _second,_ Timothy McGee. Do you understand me?"

He gave up and just kissed her on the cheek before pulling her back into a hug. "I understand you."

#

She came back from driving him to the airport and saying goodbye to the others. She took Jethro for a walk.

Back in McGee's apartment, she moved restlessly around the main room, pecking at a few keys on his typewriter, looking longingly at the computer she'd sworn up and down she wouldn't touch. Sure, she had her laptop, but exploring McGee's computer was always fun. He'd made her promise she wouldn't mess with it before he left, and she wasn't about to break that promise just in case he… well, just in case.

Jethro followed her, whining softly. She knelt down and scratched him behind the ears. "You miss him too, huh? Well, he said they'll all be back soon. So we just have to wait."

Abby wandered into the bedroom and lay down on the bed, curling up and pulling a pillow under her head. She buried her nose in the pillowcase and inhaled, smelling McGee's soap, shampoo…whatever it was, it smelled like McGee, and it was comforting. She whistled softly for Jethro, and he came running in, stopping short at the bed. She patted the mattress beside her. "Come on, buddy," she told him. "I promise I won't tell."

The big dog jumped up on the bed and curled up against her, resting his head on his paws. Abby draped an arm over him and closed her eyes. Images flickered past – Ziva smiling, Tony laughing, Tony and Ziva ganging up on McGee, the team all gathered around her lab, drinks at the bar on Fridays, Gibbs practicing sign language on her, Tony, McGee, and Gibbs walking into the airport that evening, away from her, the first time she met Gibbs, Tony, Ziva…McGee.

The first time she and McGee kissed.

She pushed the images away and tried to focus on breathing, which was suddenly impossibly difficult.

The tightness in her chest wouldn't go away.

#

She waited.

Her lab had never been so clean. Or so well organized. Every single piece of evidence that came in was examined, dissected, and tested within an inch of its life. It was only the need to go home and take care of Jethro that kept her from working through the night.

"They should have called by now, Ducky," she said one afternoon when he came to pick up some test results.

"It's only been three days, my dear," he said, patting her on the shoulder. "They will call when they can. When they're safe."

She kept waiting. And trying to breathe.

Her cell phone rang at 2 A.M., and she snatched it up. "Hello?"

"It's me, Abby. We're all safe. We're about to get on the plane home," said McGee's voice, sounding exhausted but strangely exhilarated.

The tight knot in her chest finally loosened, and she took a deep breath. And then she was crying, silent tears pouring down her face, clogging her nose, choking up the breathing she'd worked so hard to clear. She muted her phone and tried to wipe the tears from her cheeks, but they kept coming.

"Abby?" McGee said, sounding concerned. "Abby, are you there? We're okay, Abs. We're all okay. We're coming home."

She sniffed and swallowed, and managed to get her voice steady. She took her phone off mute. "I'm here. I'm just…" She swallowed again and took a careful breath. "I'm glad you're all right."

McGee's smile came even through the phone line. "We'll be back in D.C. late this afternoon. We'll get a car from the airport and come back to the office. Hang on a sec." There was a muffled exchange that sounded like he'd put his hand over the phone, and then he came back on the line. "I'll let you get back to sleep in a minute, but there's somebody who wants to talk to you first."

Abby waited through the phone pass off, trying to dry her still-streaming eyes and wondering what Tony wanted to tell her; the chances of Gibbs actually holding a non-essential phone conversation were slim to none.

Finally, she heard someone take a deep breath, and Ziva's voice, tired and shaky but very much alive, said, "Hello, Abby."

#

Abby never got back to sleep that morning.

First she had to finish crying, which took a while. McGee's pillow was covered in tearstains before Jethro started licking the salty drops off her face. That finally made her laugh, and she was able to drag herself to the bathroom to blow her nose and wash her face. She caught sight of her red nose and puffy, red rimmed eyes and shook her head. No. By the time her team got home, they'd never be able to tell she'd been crying. Because this…

This was a good day.

She cleaned McGee's apartment, walked Jethro, and kissed the top of his head. "He'll be home tonight. Just hang in there a little while longer. I'll be back to walk you soon."

She called in and took her first vacation day in three years.

Her apartment needed a real bed. Ziva needed someplace to recuperate, and she couldn't do that sleeping on the couch. And while _she_found her coffin very relaxing, she knew it didn't have that effect on others. So she squished furniture around in her tiny apartment, and Ikea became her friend for the morning, as she tested every single mattress, and made every available sales person test every single mattress, until they all reached a consensus on which had the best balance of support and comfort. Then she made Palmer ask Ducky for a couple of hours off to help her get everything up the stairs and into her apartment. New sheets and blankets and pillows, the softest she could find, and some clothes. Ziva would be comfortable until they found her a new apartment. She laid everything out and then scrubbed every inch of her apartment until it gleamed. She went grocery shopping.

Finally she stood in front of her closet, drying her hair with a towel and surveying her wardrobe. She would look nice for them all, to welcome them home. Abby bypassed her collection of t-shirts, stopped briefly in the plaid skirt section, and then shook her head and moved on to dresses. She flipped through several, stopped, and went back, pulling out a fairly simple one in black.

She'd bought it to wear on McGee's birthday the year they were dating. It was pretty; McGee especially had thought so, she remembered. She hadn't worn it in years.

She wondered if it still fit.

#

Ziva was alive. Really, truly alive, standing in the squad room, and Abby was hugging her and Ziva was hugging her back. She was cut and scratched and bruised, too thin and too quiet, but she was alive and that was all that mattered right now.

"Abby," came Ducky's gentle voice from behind her. "Perhaps Ziva would like to sit? She has had a very long day."

"Oh!" Carefully disengaging, Abby let Ducky lean in and give Ziva a kiss on the cheek, and then lead her back to her desk. "McGee switched the desk chairs, but I switched them back," Abby told her. Crouching by her friend, Abby squeezed Ziva's hand gently. "I've got a bed and clean clothes and everything waiting for you at my apartment," she said. "You just rest for a minute while I say hi to the guys, and then I'll take you home, okay? We'll get you cleaned up and you can sleep."

Ziva managed the faintest of smiles and a small nod. Abby smiled back and then turned and launched herself at Gibbs, hugging him as tightly as she could. "Thank you," she whispered in his ear. "Thank you, thank you, thank you…" Then Tony's arms were around her and he was solid and real and most importantly _not dead_ and his smile actually reached his eyes for the first time in four months. And finally, McGee, bruised and cut up like the rest of them, but holding her tight. "Ooof," he said as she crashed into him. "I missed you too, Abs."

Her eyes stung again, and she buried her face in his shoulder until she got herself under control. "You stink," she told him, her voice muffled by his shirt.

She felt the rumble of laughter in his chest. "Sorry," he said, and started to step back, but she wouldn't let him.

"I don't care." She raised her head and smiled.

They all probably were desperate to get home, and showered. And she had to take care of Ziva, she reminded herself.

But all of that could wait for just another minute, because she'd waited long enough. Abby clung to McGee, not caring that he was sweat-stained and dirty and smelled. None of it mattered, because she could breathe again.

FIN


End file.
